


If We Weren't

by unsubstitute



Category: The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: F/M, Pre-Relationship, UST, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 19:46:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8935345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsubstitute/pseuds/unsubstitute
Summary: Inspired by the lyric "I can love whoever I want."





	

It’s loud and quiet all at the same time out here. They’re all alone, a collection of empty bar tables to choose from. She chooses one furthest from the door and leans against it, propping herself up on her elbows. The music inside the party pounds against the walls, and loud drunken laughter echoes through the glass doors. The air is cold, even for December, especially for LA. He puts his jacket over her shoulders without a word, and she pulls the lapels around her. It smells like him, musky, earthy, and a little bit sweet. He rubs a hand over her back for a minute, and steps closer to her, leaning against the table and facing her. Her chest is pounding, because someone could notice them out here any moment. It's exhilarating, way more than it should be. They haven’t done anything wrong but she feels scandalous. She knows they could get caught, standing alone outside together, way too close together while she’s wrapped in his jacket. She knows these things, but at the same time, the wine in her blood and the look in his eyes are the only thing she’s really capable of focusing on. 

“Are you too cold? We don’t have to stay out—“

“I’m fine.” She smiles to reassure him. 

“Okay,” he says. His voice is so soft. “As long as you’re comfortable.” 

There’s so much in those words, her eyes feel the tiniest bit wet. She leans toward him, so her shoulder rests against his. He wraps his arm around her. Any chill in the air is completely vanished. “I’m perfect,” she says. 

They’re quiet for a while, standing there like that, his arm around her and his thumb making circles on her shoulder. 

"I really hope you can come back." 

She smiles at him. "Me too, I really needed something like this. Plus meeting you...all you guys." 

"You're really good for the show. Everyone likes you, cuz you're so sweet and normal. Amazing how rare those qualities are these days." 

Her smile grows and he returns one of his own. The dimples add a little boyishness to his face, that contrast so much with his size and all the country cowboy stuff he does. So much of her life has been spent with quiet, serious guys, his cute, smiley demeanor is fascinating. The way he's looking at her makes her giggle nervously. 

“So what’s next for you?” he asks. 

“For me? What do you mean?” 

“I mean, the season is over, so what do you have coming up? Anything cool? I mean you're Gwen Stefani, of course you have something cool coming up...but you know what I'm saying. We haven't talked about what you got going on after this."

“Oh,” she laughs nervously. “Well, okay. I have a few shows coming up. And actually later this week, I’m getting an award…”

“Oh yeah? Congrats! What for?” 

There’s an unused cocktail napkin abandoned on their table and she picks at it with her fingers. 

“It’s not that big of a deal,” she says. “It’s the Style Icon Award…from People Magazine. I don’t know, it’s kind of dumb I guess.” 

She looks up from the napkin expecting to see him smirking but instead he’s beaming. “That makes sense, if anyone deserves that award it’s you! Congratulations!” 

A few weeks ago when she told Gavin about the award, he rolled his eyes and ranted about how when there was an award for literally anything the awards that actually were important started losing their meaning. He hadn’t said another word about it except to say he’d go with her to the event. 

“Still, it’s not like it was hard to earn or anything…” she says. 

His arm is still around her and his grip tightens, pulling her against him in a side hug. He rubs his hand up and down her arm. From this close, she can feel his breath against her temple. 

“Nah come on. I’ve never seen you looking anything less than a 10. You always look incredible. I mean it. Always.”

She shakes her head. His eyes are boring into her, and even in the December cold she’s feeling too warm. She tries to laugh. “Not always, you should see me first thing in the morning.” 

“I’d love to see that. I bet you look amazing.” His hand stills against her arm but he doesn’t move away. “Sorry…I didn’t mean…I wasn't trying..." he sighs. "No, you know what? Screw it. I mean it exactly like it sounds. I really would love to see what you look like when you wake up in the morning. Take that anyway you want, it’s all true.”

She stares at him. His eyes are dark, and his breathing is fast. Ironic, she thinks, because she’s not sure if she’s breathing at all. Her arm is wrapped around his waist and she doesn't even know how it got there. Their eyes are locked, plugged into each other, unblinking and unable to look away. He dips his head low so that their noses are nearly touching. She raises a hand and rests it in the spot where the back of his jaw meets his neck, rubbing her thumb along his cheek. It’s softer than she expected. 

“Blake?” 

“Yeah?” His voice is barely a whisper. His breath hits her and sinks into her pores. Beneath her fingers she can feel his pulse pounding. It matches her own. 

She pulls his face closer, so that their foreheads are resting together. He moves his hands to her waist, pulling her in, pressing her body against his. She tries to inhale, but it sticks halfway down her throat. 

“I think I could love you,” she says. When she speaks, her lips just barely graze his. Even the tiniest taste leaves her craving so much more. His hands tighten around her. 

“I want to love you,” she whispers. He moves his lips, touches them to hers so softly, so quickly she’s not even sure that it’s happened at all. “If it weren’t for…if we weren’t…I think I’d be so good at loving you.”

She can feel him nod, the skin of his brow rubbing against hers. 

“But we can’t.” She takes half a step back and lifts her face to press her lips against his forehead instead of the places she wants to put them. “I wish it was different but it’s not.” 

When she takes another step back and looks at him, his eyes are closed. His hands go slack as he lets her go. Her eyes burn seeing the look on his face. There’s a sadness pulling at his features that she can feel in her bones. 

“Blake?” 

He looks at her, finally. “I know you’re right. Obviously, you’re right. But I…” he clears his throat. “Well, let’s just say it’s a good thing you’re a good person.” 

She smiles at that. “So are you!” 

He shakes his head and gives her a half-smile. “Not tonight I’m not.” 

It’s her turn to close her eyes, but she won’t give in. This can’t happen, especially not now, like this. “We should go in.” 

He nods, and holds out an arm inviting her to take the lead. As she reaches the door, he clears his throat. “Uh, Gwen?” 

She looks up at him. “That jacket? Not exactly the jacket of a Style Icon Award winner.” 

He grins at her as she shrugs out of the jacket and he opens the door. When they’re inside she passes it back to him. As he takes it from her, he leans in close, and puts his lips to her ear. “For the record, I have no doubt I could love you too.” 

There’s a determination in his eyes, and a soft smile on his face. She smiles back at him, with more happiness than she feels, but something about his gaze gives her hope. His hand hovers around the small of her back, not quite touching, as they make their way into the sea of music and laughter of the wrap party.

**Author's Note:**

> This might evolve into something bigger...


End file.
